


On Thranduil and His Crown

by Plant_Murderer



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, I like it anyway, Poetry, Post-Loss, hopefully good poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 13:18:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4139031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plant_Murderer/pseuds/Plant_Murderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a crown that's bound by time and seasons<br/>is worn by Mirkwood's King for reasons<br/> that are, every one, his own. <br/>I just guess them in this poem. </p>
<p>The thought of dying crown for deathless<br/> king did lead to moments restless <br/>typing up this poem new, <br/>hope you like it and review.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Thranduil and His Crown

King Thranduil wears a crown of leaves   
And branches from his darkling wood.  
He wears this crown and calls it good.  
It whispers in the breeze. 

Its berries fall from time to time.  
From wooden throne the king descends,  
And follows halls down to their ends,  
To seek new branch and vine. 

In years gone by, his son did go   
Down with him to the world below  
That highest seat, in sun and snow   
To seek, and learn, and rule. 

When stood his queen, all proud and strong,  
He walked with her to right fresh wrongs   
And send the dark away in throngs,   
Crown found along the way. 

He’s always known how swift they fade,  
Beloved ones once found or made.   
Each Leaf, each Star, will go way,  
Each Summer and each Song. 

And so he sits and guards his own.  
Wears not the crown his father wore,  
Whose haste did teach him grief before  
His blood gave him a throne.

So Elven king with mortal helm   
and mortal seat still rules o’re those  
whose wisdom, sharp and mortal, shows  
their kinship with his realm 

He wears a crown of darkling wood   
and whispering leaves and calls it good,  
they tell him truths best understood,  
by husbands, sires, and kings.


End file.
